


as a fever, rattling bones

by dawnstruck



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Français | Translation in French, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn With Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6931183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstruck/pseuds/dawnstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Traditionally, only mated omegas are allowed within the military, and even then they are unlikely to rise through the ranks, either employed as secretaries, engineers, or forever remaining as privates. An omega major is certainly unheard of.<br/>But then again, it's not the first time that Edward Elric has managed to defy the ways of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [as a fever, rattling bones (FR)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418091) by [Takkaori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takkaori/pseuds/Takkaori)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been meaning to write a RoyEd story inspired by Beyonce's cover of Kings of Leon's 'Sex on Fire', but I never thought it would end up being an a/b/o 'verse that took the lyrics so literally. Save me, my soul has been tainted.  
> On a side note, this is not a PWP like so many a/b/o fics seem to be, or a trope to explain mpreg. What I'm more interested in is the social construction of the alpha/beta/omega dynamics, the history of it, the potential taboos and laws and restrictions. In short, this is more about world-building than smut. But there is still smut.  
> Also, the timeline for this is really vague and unimportant. Hughes dead? Homunculi wreaking havoc? Irrelevant. Just enjoy the angsty porn.
> 
> Warning: I marked this as Mature, but let me know if you think it should be rated Explicit. Also, Ed starts out as fifteen in this, but he's already sixteen when they start having sex. Depending where you're from you might still consider this as underage, but I do not. And let's be real, we ship RoyEd, we're aware of the age difference, we've probably all read much worse.

“ _Lay where you're laying, don't make a sound_ __  
_I know they're watching, they're watching_ __  
_All the commotion, the kiddie like play_ _  
__Has people talking, talking”_

 

Fullmetal is back from a mission and he is moody, miserable, maledicent.

He's got the heels of his dirty boots up on the coffee table, leaning back where he is slouched on the sofa cushions, tugging at his collar, twisting, complaining about the dry heat of the radiator and the grey January weather.

Roy snaps his eyes up from the messy report he had been trying to decipher, zeroing in on the boy that drags havoc with him wherever he walks.

“Fullmetal,” he says shortly, sharply, “The least you could do is show some modicum of respect.”

Ed jerks a little at the whip of his voice but then pulls his feet off the polished wood, all slow reluctance, burying his soles in the poor rug instead, sitting up straight.

There is still a slump to his shoulders, but it's less disregard and more... not deference maybe, but... as though he were trying to appear smaller. A truly ridiculous notion for Edward Elric was loath to ever admit to being short of stature.

Roy narrows his eyes but then lowers them back to the paper. He has other things to worry about.

 

Edward is what people like Gracia kindly refer to as a late bloomer. Late to grow, late to mature, late to present. At age fifteen, Ed is still blissfully untouched by the mayhem that puberty wreaks upon the human body. It's a good thing, too, because someone as driven and determined as him would hate to be distracted by something as obnoxious as hormones.

But, as always, even that idyll has to be shattered eventually.

Fullmetal sweeps through the outer-office with nothing but a wave of his hand, and then he is already barging through the door, making everyone wince when it bangs shut.

Roy looks up, glares, his nostrils flaring – and then the words falter in his mouth.

“Gimme a mission,” Fullmetal tells him, nervously walking up and down in front of his desk, “Field work, research, anything. I need something to do.”

“Fullmetal,” Roy says, slowly because he cannot believe it himself right now, but the proof is undeniably there, right in front of him.

Roy has a keen nose and Edward Elric _reeks_.

“What,” Ed gripes, still stalking around like a tiger in a cage, running a hand through his hair, “Come on, don't you always lecture me about being more enthusiastic about work? So this is me, showing initiative. Aren't you proud?”

“Fullmetal,” Roy repeats in exasperation but then stops himself. “You... haven't even noticed yet, have you?” he realizes, watching as Ed comes to a stop.

“Noticed what?” Ed asks, tilting head to the side, utterly oblivious.

Roy refrains the urge to rub a hand over his face. When he had recruited the boy, the possibility of this sort of situation had never even occurred to him. But Fullmetal has no parents, and his brother has no sense of smell. So as luck would have it, the dubious pleasure of having the talk with him now falls to his commanding officer.

“This may come as a surprise to you,” Roy says, trying to cushion the blow a little, “But it seems you have just presented.”

“Presented wh-,” Ed begins, frowning, but then it freezes on his face and he stares down at himself as though that might yield a more thorough explanation. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “No, what?”

Roy brushes a knuckle under his nose, trying not to breathe in too deeply, but the taste is already on his tongue anyway.

“It appears,” he says, not knowing how else to phrase it, “That you are an omega.”

 

Roy is an alpha, one of many among the brass, and he is not too proud to know that his status had additionally helped him rise through the ranks.

The rest of his team, on the other hand, consists solely of unmated betas who are probably the easiest to work with in an institution that relies on such a strict hierarchy. They both give orders and follow them, always depending what's needed at the moment. And they do not have a mate or a family who might come between them and their duty.

Roy has not specifically chosen them because of those reasons but he finds that their statuses leave their office well-balanced and in an agreeable mood.

Fullmetal had always been the thorn in his side, in that regard. He'd been loud and belligerent and did not take kindly to being at someone's beck and call.

He'd have to be an alpha for sure, Roy had thought and not been alone in it. It was only a matter of time until it was official.

Yet now... this.

“That can't be,” Ed claims, though it's with that kind of tone that speaks of denial instead of conviction, “I'm not... I don't feel any different.”

“But your scent has changed,” Roy points out, “And you are rather restless. Your first heat might-”

“Don't,” Edward growls, and that right there is the reason why it's so difficult to imagine him as an omega, “Don't talk talk about it so bluntly, you bastard.”

“I'm not trying to embarrass you,” Roy sighs, “But this is a serious matter. We need to discuss a strategy.”

“What for, this has nothing to do with you, so shut-”

“Edward, you are an omega, underage and unmated, and I am your commanding officer,” Roy tells him curtly, “This has everything to do with me.”

Traditionally, only mated omegas are allowed within the military, and even then they are unlikely to rise through the ranks, either employed as secretaries, engineers, or forever remaining as privates. An omega major is certainly unheard of.

But then again, it's not the first time that Edward Elric has managed to defy the ways of the world.

Fullmetal must know this, too, because all of a sudden he goes quiet.

“Will they... will they kick me out?” he asks, worrying at his lower lip.

Very quickly, multiple scenarios flicker through Roy's mind.

The Fullmetal Alchemist is an asset, but like this he is also a liability. If it is indeed decided that he would have to be discharged, then everything up to this point would have been for naught. The past four years would have been wasted on something that had not yielded results in regards to the Elrics' quest. And that meant that, once again, Edward would blame himself for why his brother was still stuck within the armor.

The decision then is easily made.

“I will defend your case to my superiors,” Roy promises, pushing his chair back and standing up, “But we'll have to find an actual solution for your scent.”

The boy looks self-conscious, and it's admittedly strange to think that he must be barely aware of it himself while Roy's entire world seems to be filled with it.

“But...,” Ed looks doubtful, “I head about those perfumes and the like-”

“Nonsense,” Roy cuts him off, “Those don't work. They only try to drench the natural pheromones and, let me tell you, it's not a pleasant combination.”

Instead, Roy begins to unbutton his uniform and then the dress shirt underneath.

Ed stares, “Er, what's happening right now?”

But Roy just tosses him the shirt and walks over to the closet in the corner to get himself a new one.

“Wear that,” he says over his shoulder and catches Ed's disgusted expression.

“ _What?_ ”

“Bathe in the evenings and then wear it to sleep,” Roy instructs, unfolding the new shirt and slipping into it, “My scent should be enough to keep others away from you.”

He turns around in time to see realization flicker through Ed's eyes, but he still doesn't seem sold on the idea.

“I don't wanna smell like you, you bastard,” he complains.

“It's a proxy for scenting,” Roy explains, “My pheromones will protect you.”

Because even outside of their heat, omegas were still a source of interest for alphas, and that might both pose a direct threat to Edward and also make the brass less willing to let him maintain his rank.

“If you'd rather,” Roy adds with a smirk as he steps back behind his desk, “I can, of course, directly transfer my scent.”

“Ugh,” Edward shudders, “No, thank you.”

“Thought so,” Roy chuckles, some of the tension finally leaving him, “Come back in a couple of days to return the shirt and I will give you a new one.”

The corners of Ed's mouth pull down but he at least he nods in agreement, “Anything else?”

Roy sighs.

“I can't believe I'm telling you this,” he begins reluctantly, “But make a point of proving to others that your nature does not influence your decisiveness. No one must suspect that anyone, especially outside of the ranks, might make you follow their orders just because are an omega.”

Edward grins.

“That,” he announces devilishly, “Will be absolutely no problem.”

 

After Fullmetal has left again, Hawkeye steps into the office.

“Sir?” she asks when she sees Roy standing by the open window.

“Just letting in some fresh air,” he tells her pleasantly, but of course she doesn't buy it for a second.

“I don't think the rest of the team noticed yet,” she points out, “He was here and gone so quickly. Alphonse seemed unaware as well.”

“He'll find out soon enough,” Roy knows. Tonight, at the latest, when Edward was forced to explain why he was sleeping in a shirt that was obviously not his.

“How will we precede from here on?” she wants to know, watching as he sits down at his desk and turns towards his paperwork once more.

“Just like always,” he says and twirls his fountain pen between his fingers, “We'll take things as they come.”

 

It's badly timed and Roy should have predicted it, but Fullmetal's first heat hits while he is on a field mission up North.

He returns looking exhausted and embarrassed, but his report specifies his longer-than-usual absence as nothing more than 'unforeseen complications'. Which probably meant that he had locked himself up in whatever inn he happened to be staying at and just waited it out.

For a moment, Roy had felt a flicker of worry at the thought that some stranger might have taken advantage of the situation, but Edward's scent is unchanged and his neck unmarked.

“Did anyone give you trouble?” Roy asks nevertheless and they both know that it is not the actual mission they are talking about.

“No,” Ed replies but his eyes are in the corner of the room, “The shirts worked. And... Al guarded the door. So.”

So no one had dared to get too close to the doubtlessly delirious omega. Strange to think that Alphonse's condition allowed for him to be totally unaffected by anyone's scents and behaviors, tempting, threatening or otherwise. He might well be the reason why Fullmetal would be able to keep carrying out his fieldwork.

Roy gives a curt nod.

“From now on we will schedule your missions so they are not compromised by your cycle,” he says, ignoring Ed's indignant squawk, “Also, I advice you to leave the dorms during that time and rent a room in appropriate accommodations.”

There were special inns for omegas where they could wait out their heat, the staff only consisting of other omegas who were indifferent to the pheromones. Good ones – and discreet ones - were a bit of a pricey affair but it wasn't like a state alchemist wouldn't be able to afford it. It was better than to have half of the troops in disarray because they could smell Fullmetal through the gap under the door.

“Um,” Ed says and a shuffles a little, “I heard that some people use blockers and-”

“Don't even think about it,” Roy interrupts him, “Those are nothing but potentially dangerous cocktails made of chemicals. Their side effects haven't be properly studied yet. You might irreparably upset your hormone level. Which is why most of them are illegal and only available on the black market.”

He gives the boy a stern look, “You will not buy any of those blockers, Fullmetal.”

“Fine,” Ed hisses, “Gee, I was just asking.”

“I understand that experiencing heat on your own is uncomfortable,” Roy amends, “But it's best to just wait it out.”

“Easy for you to say, bastard,” Ed huffs and if his cheeks are distinctly red then Roy ignores that, too.

 

Little over two months later and Fullmetal requests a couple of days off without having to say anything else.

It's not much of a problem, considering the boy generally never takes any sick days, apart from when he is injured on the job, which is also one of the reasons Roy's superiors had been surprisingly accepting of when Roy had explained the situation to them.

That, and it would not look good in the eye of the public if the Alchemist of the People was discharged because of his class. Most likely there would be an uproar which was something the military always sought to avoid.

So it comes as a bit of a shock when early on Tuesday morning, Alphonse Elric bursts into the office, looking as harried as his blank face allows.

“Colonel Mustang,” he says, sounding almost breathless, as soon as he has closed the door behind himself, “Something is wrong with brother.”

And immediately Roy is on alert because he trusts Al's judgment more than he does Ed's.

“What happened?”

“I don't know,” Alphonse is wringing his hands, “His, um, his heat started so we went to a hotel, but this morning he was acting really weird and now he won't respond at all.”

“Dammit,” Roy is out of his chair and by the door in a matter of second, barely even remembering to grab his coat, “Do we need a car?”

“It's not far,” Alphonse says, so Roy waves a dismissive hand at Havoc who had already jerked upright at his desk station.

“Did he say anything?” Roy demands as he and Al fly down the stairs together, the armor clanking with every step.

“Just gibberish,” Al replies, “But I didn't know whether I should call a doctor because, well.”

Because whatever Ed had done, whatever he had taken might have been illegal.

“The lady who runs the hotel is taking care of him now,” Al adds, leading the way down the street, “But she was really upset because brother went against the house rules.”

Roy curses under his breath and just quickens his pace.

When they arrive at the hotel he is red in the face and sweating, but the flight of stairs they need to take is just another small hindrance. The receptionist, however, cries out when she sees him.

“No alphas allowed!” she calls after him, sounding panicked. And not without reason because an agitated alpha among omegas in heat might pose a dangerous threat.

“Military business,” he only barks out, knowing he'll have a letter of complaint to read first thing next morning.

“Down here, Colonel,” Alphonse says, leading him along a corridor and then opening a door, not even bothering to knock.

“What on earth-,” an elderly lady rises from where she had been sitting by a bedside, “The audacity! First you are taking drugs in my establishment and now you bring an alpha in here!”

“I'm terribly sorry, ma'am,” Al bows deeply, “I didn't know what to do.”

“What's his condition?” Roy cuts in, striding through room. The pheromones in the air are downright pungent so he breathes shallowly through his mouth. It gets even worse when he kneels down by the bed and peels back the cocoon of blankets Fullmetal has wrapped himself in.

“Hmmm,” Edward hums listlessly. His shoulders are bare and his hair is a mess.

“Alphonse,” Roy says, quickly scanning the room for evidence, “Do you know whether he bought some sort of blocker?”

“He didn't tell me,” Alphonse answers and then adds meekly, “But I think he might have been experimenting himself.”

Roy's stomach takes a pitfall. To think that someone like Fullmetal was stupid enough to try and come up with his own brand of blockers was almost ridiculous.

He reaches out, his thumb peeling back one of Edward's eyelids. As expected, his pupil is blown wide and unfocused.

Valium, Roy suspects, which is not unheard of as a means to help someone through their heat. But it's obvious that Edward must have overdosed, probably thinking he could suppress some if not all of the symptoms.

“We need to call a doctor,” Roy announces, looking towards the proprietor, “Now.”

The woman merely rolls her eyes at him. “Already did that,” she says dryly, “I've been in this business for a while, young man.”

“Thank you,” Roy tells her and then forces himself to remain calm.

On the bed, Edward's hand has found his and he presses his face against the palm, purring quietly.

 

When the week's over and Roy can safely assume that Ed is no longer high nor in heat he goes to visit the boy in the hospital where he has been kept for supervision.

Ed doesn't look over when the door opens, must have already expected this visit from the moment his brain chemistry returned to normal levels.

“Don't even start,” he drawls out and Roy feels a spike of anger surge up in him.

“Trust me, I wish we wouldn't have to have this conversation,” he replies with an edge to his voice, “But it's obvious that we do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed crosses his arms over his chest, “So talk.”

“You promised me,” Roy reminds him, “That you would not try to use any sort of blocker.”

“No,” Ed growls, “You told me not to buy any. Which I didn't. And also, when have I ever followed any of your orders?”

“This is no laughing matter, Fullmetal,” Roy says, stepping closer, not to pull up the chair that's standing by the bedside but to lecture more effectively, “You could have very well killed yourself.”

Ed doesn't quite flinch, but his shoulders hunch up defensively.

“Wasn't my intention,” he mutters.

“That isn't the point,” Roy shakes his head, “I just don't understand you. You endured automail surgery as a child but now you are unwilling to suffer through a few days of discomfort?”

Finally, Edward turns his eyes on him but when he does he glares.

“How can you even compare that?” he hisses, “I got the automail so I could help Al. This- this whole omega thing is nothing but a hindrance. That's why I took the drugs in the first place.”

“How was any of that conductive to helping?”

“I thought if I reigned in the symptoms, I might be able to at least continue my research, get some reading done,” Ed blows out a harsh breath through his nose, “And at first it worked, but the effects are really short-term. So I took more. And then, well, I guess I overdosed.”

“You _guess_? Your brother thought you might die, Fullmetal.”

This time, Edward does flinch.

“It's just...,” he whispers, more to his clenched hands than to anyone else, “That while I'm wasting time with that whole heat thing we're not getting any closer to getting his body back. I feel... I feel useless.”

And once more all of Edward Elric's vices are explained by all of his virtues.

Roy takes a deep breath.

“You are not helping him when you are high as a kite,” he points out, “And I supect he will forgive you, whether you are losing a couple of days or not.”

“Yeah,” Ed gives a vague nod, “He said that, too.”

“Then if you don't believe me,” Roy tells him, “Believe him instead.”

 

He had thought that would be the end of it but with the Elrics it just never is.

Three months later and when Roy least expects it there is a knock on his door, late one evening.

“Fullmetal,” he says in surprise when he sees the boy standing on his doorstep and then the first thing that follows it is, “How do you even know where I live?”

“I have my sources,” Edward replies enigmatically and then just pushes past him into the house.

“Aren't you supposed to be on leave?” Roy points out but the words have barely left his mouth when he is already getting a whiff of the boy's scent.

“Are you insane?” he gasps, covering the lower half of his face with his hand, “You're in heat and you're wandering around in the middle of the-”

“Yeah, see, that's something I don't like about this thing,” Ed huffs, kicking off his boots as though he were planning to stay for a while, “Why are omegas always the ones who are at fault when alphas can't control themselves? How is that fair, huh?”

“Fullmetal, if you are planning to join a debate group, please do so at your own leisure, but not in my home. Or in my immediate presence,” Roy cannot help but growl, “I am an alpha as well, in case you have forgotten.”

“That's why I came here, actually,” Ed shrugs off his coat as well, stands on his tiptoes to put it on the rag, “I must say I'm pretty damn impressed by your self-control. Most alphas would've tried to jump me by now. Despite the fact that I'm covered in your scent and all.”

And there he stands, dressed in his ridiculous leather pants and one of the shirts Roy had given him just a couple of days before. The shirt he was meant to wear to sleep so that the scent would linger the next day. Not to cover himself from head to toe like a mark of ownership.

“Fullmetal,” Roy says very calmly, even as he fights with himself over whether he should take a step back or forward, “What are you doing here?”

“So, here's the thing,” Ed says, “Blockers are no good, right? And waiting it out drives me nuts and also takes ages. So why not just give in to the biological urges?”

“What on earth are you talking about,” Roy says because he already has a suspicion sneaking up on him.

“An unattended heat takes at least five days to run its course,” Ed explains like reciting from a scientific journal. Which he probably is. “But with a partner, the worst of it can be dealt with within just two days. That's a huge difference.”

“No,” Roy says and this time he does step back, blindly reaching for the red coat to throw it at the boy but all that does is throw more pheromones into the air, “You're insane. This is just those same biological urges speaking right now.”

“I'm not that out of it yet,” Ed huffs, “And I thought about it before.”

He lifts a hand to his face, sniffing at the cuff off the too long sleeve that is bunched up around his wrist, “I already noticed last time, actually. You don't smell all that vile. So I guess it'd be okay.”

“Edward,” Roy grits out, hoping that the use of his given name will get through to the boy, “I am your commanding officer. I cannot be you heat partner.”

“I've been wearing your scent for months now,” Ed shrugs, “No one would have to know.”

We would know, though, Roy's mind screams at him. And then what? How long would this go on?

“You're too young,” is what he says instead.

“I just turned sixteen, so fuck off,” Ed rolls his eyes, “Also, I know for a fact you don't have another partner at the moment or you wouldn't just go handing me your shirts like that. And... and if you don't do it then I'll be forced to go find some other alpha. And I don't know all that many, so I'll just pick anyone. Literally anyone, like, whomever I meet first once I walk out that door.”  
Roy stares.

“Are you,” he asks slowly, “Threatening me with the prospect of you throwing away your virginity?”

“Yeah,” Ed says, “So?”

At that flippant reply, Roy draws himself up to his full height, hands on his hips, knowing full well that it makes him look intimidating.

“You cannot coerce me and you certainly cannot seduce me,” he declares, attempting to stare Ed down, “I will not do this just because it is convenient to you.”

“Dammit, that's not what I-,” Edward looks somewhat guilty but mostly frustrated, “I just... I _have_ to do this.”

And he turns his pleading eyes upon Roy.

Damn him. Damn him and his genius and his determination. Because showing up here at the beginning of his heat when he was smelling the sweetest and while he had already been smelling of Roy for months was just devious. Not to mention that, seeing that Fullmetal was his protegé, Roy was already more inclined towards wanting to help him. All of Roy's instincts were telling him that this was a marvelous idea, and the tiny part of his rationale that was objecting against all this was quickly losing the fight.

“Come _on_ ,” Ed tells him, taking a step closer and awkwardly tugging at Roy's sleeve.

Roy inhales, belatedly realizing how that only makes everything worse. But then again, his decision is already made.

“This will never enter the office,” he says, banishing the trembling from his voice, “We cannot risk the potential consequences.”

“Fucking finally,” Ed says and smirks.

 

Scientifically speaking, the biology behind everything is quite simple. The instincts are nothing more than a leftover from a previous evolutionary stage. Male omegas can no longer conceive but maintain some atavistic features. Apart from their heat and their pheromones, a smaller build is common, but there are other less obvious features.

Edward had been quite composed when he had shown up at the door, but as soon as Roy puts his hands on him it becomes apparent that he is deeper into his heat than he had first let on. His skin seems almost scalding hot and soon enough his eyes are glassy with the fever.

Roy doesn't quite know how to get them into the bedroom what with the boy trying to rub up against him right then and there. In the end, he sighs and simply throws him over his shoulder.

“Bastard,” Ed hisses in token outrage, but there is a shiver to his voice that betrays that this is exactly what some part of him had wanted.

Fullmetal is exactly that, though, and not exactly a lightweight so, once in the bedroom, Roy unceremoniously dumps him onto the mattress, making him bounce and glare up from between messy bangs.

And this is the part that Roy hates because he revels in it, revels how this particular moment is defined by their roles as predator and prey. Most omegas they give up the pretense easily enough and just surrender, but Edward Elric is of a different caliber. Even if he was the one who initiated this, he will not make it easy for Roy. He'll want a hunt.

There's a split second as their eyes meet, a flicker of realization that they have both understood where the other stands.

Roy can't quite follow the thought process in his own mind, but one moment he is just waiting there and the next he lunges himself at Edward who scrambles up the bed. Roy gets a hold of his automail ankle but Ed just kicks out, frees himself, rolls off the mattress. He makes for the door, but Roy ducks down and literally pulls the rug out from under his feet. Ed yelps, goes down, catches himself, makes the mistake of wasting time and throwing a look back over his shoulder.

Before he can even blink, Roy has him by the end of the braid, jerking his head back, and then grabbing the scruff of his neck, giving him a good shaking like one would a disobedient dog.

Ed flaps indignant hands at him but can't quite reach, starts kicking again, until Roy lifts him up further and he is forced to balance on his tiptoes.

Ed is growling, glaring, scratching at Roy's hands while simultaneously trying to hold on to them, trying to ease some off the weight of his scalp. But Roy isn't cowed in the least, just drags him back over to the bed, and then the little shit is laughing because he is obviously enjoying it.

The little fight has only served to enhance their pheromones, and Roy can tell Ed is almost giddy with it. Roy himself is able to show more restraint, but he is not unaffected either.

This time, when he is pushed onto the bed, Ed goes willingly, yet Roy still follows, moving to hover above him. Edward's face is flushed now, his pupils wide, and he gazes up at Roy with something akin to hunger.

They could move everything along very quickly now, though Roy stills himself and takes a very deliberate moment to focus.

At some point in their mad scramble Ed's hair tie must have gotten lost and now his braid is coming undone at the end. So Roy allows himself to reach out, to rake his fingers through the strands and slowly unravel them. Underneath him, Ed's breath hitches, and Roy marvels.

He has never simply touched the boy before, has he? Most of their physical interactions had at least some sort of violent undercurrent to them, a natural extension from their constant verbal sparring.

There's none of that snark now, just a certain kind of tension, like a dam about to break. Or, less severe maybe, two raindrops on a windowpane slowly sliding towards each other and converging.

Tentatively, Roy runs is hands along Edward's body while Edward watches him attentively, as though warning him of making even one wrong move.

Roy's thumbs caress the rough leather of Ed's pants before he goes to unbuckle the belt, eases the tight fabric off his hips, down his legs. The mere sight of all that skin uncovered, however, sends a rush to his brain and the next thing he knows he is reaching for the shirt Ed is wearing, that shirt that has so delightfully mingled their scents. The buttons pop, the seams tear, and Ed's chest and belly are exposed as well, golden like the rest of him, safe for his right shoulder where dark scar tissue morphs into clean steel.

Ed doesn't seem to mind having his past revealed in such a manner, just eagerly slips out of the tattered remains of the shirt. Is it the need that keeps him from being self-conscious? Or is that caused by an altogether different thing, a thing that is Edward Elric down to the core?

Roy doesn't get much time to contemplate, because then Ed is already turning the table, attempting to wrestle him out of his clothes as well, annoyed little grunts spilling from his pursed lips.

It turns into a small whine, though, when he finally does get his hands on Roy, and the dual touch of hot and cool is like electricity pulsing through Roy's body. He flips Ed around and then pulls him against his bare chest, embracing him from behind. It's a perfect position for scenting and Ed immediately tilts his head back so Roy may rub his face against his neck.

Roy has another thing in mind, though, and he first puts his hand on Ed's navel as a sort of warning before inching father downwards. Ed's jump in anticipation and when Roy's fingers sneak under the waistband of his underwear he lets out a low mewl.

Roy, however, is nothing if not a tease, and so he very pointedly bypasses Ed's hard cock and instead slips a little lower. There, just below the base of the shaft, he finds the small uneven ridge where the labia used to be. A very sensitive spot, as Roy well knows, so he carefully skirts his fingers across it, making Ed writhe. Only then does he wrap a warm palm around his cock.

He plans to jerk him off, to take off the edge before they move on, but patience has never been one of Edward's virtues. Before he can reach his orgasm, he grabs Roy's wrist and pulls his hand away, even if he makes himself whimper at the loss of touch.

Then he scrambles to his knees, shimmies out of his shorts, and presents himself ass-up, face-down.

The more gentlemanly part of Roy revolts at the thought of taking him like this, but he also knows that this is the easiest position for Ed's first time. So he crawls after Ed, running a soothing hand up along his shivering spine, while the other reaches for the nightstand, pulling open the drawer and riffling through it in search of slick and condoms.

Luckily, Madame Christmas had raised him well and thus he is always stocked up on the necessities for similar scenarios. Not that Roy had ever been in a situation quite so enticing and delicate at this, but it never hurt to be prepared.

Literally, in this case, and so Roy makes to slowly and methodically work Edward open. Edward himself seems caught between reveling in the sensation, wanting to complain, and trusting the alpha to know what to do.

Soon, Ed is at the edge again, his knuckles white and clenched in the sheets, and Roy knows they are both ready. He unwraps the condom and carefully rolls it down along his length. Ed watches from he corner of his eyes, head twisted around, pupils dilated, a breathy wail spilling from his lips, impatience, anticipation.

Roy swallows, his throat dry, and lines himself up, the thumb of his other hand rubbing soothing circles against Ed's hip, the skin still marred with the imprints of his pants' seams. Then he pushes in.

Ed bucks, apparently not sure what to do, wanting to grind back and pull away at the same time, so Roy keeps him still, keeps him in place, gives him time to adjust before pressing in more deeply.

“Breathe,” he says, the first word spoken since they entered this room, and it is a reminder for the both of them.

Ed lets out the breath he had been holding and then takes a shuddering inhale.

“Mmmhh,” he whimpers, incapable of anything else, and he is practically thrumming with it.

Technically, Roy knows, the penetration is not necessary. Technically, it would be enough to get each other off, to mingle in each others' scent, to just prolong the skin contact. Male omegas cannot breed and evolution has done away with the corresponding sexual organs, but that urgency is still there, that urge to be fucked and fucked hard.

Ed is throbbing, clenching around him, so Roy bends over him, hooks his chin over his flesh shoulder and an arm over his chest to hold him tight. Like this, it would be an easy thing to mark him, to just bite down at the tantalizing patch of skin that seems to be Roy's for the taking. But he refrains, just grits his teeth and gives the first vicious thrust, followed by another, and another.

And underneath him, Ed comes apart, comes undone. Underneath him, Ed comes.

 

Roy goes to get something to drink and make them some sandwiches because Edward had actually apprehended him before he could have dinner and now his stomach was rumbling in complaint. He has no doubt that Ed was similarly affected.

Yet when Roy places the plate and the glasses on the beside table, Ed stays huddled underneath the blankets, only the tip of his nose sticking out.

And here was their first crisis, Roy thinks.

“Everything alright?” he asks kindly, sitting down on the mattress, because for once this is not a moment where teasing Ed will yield any desirable results. But Ed just stays silent for a long moment, until Roy eventually just reaches out and plucks the sheet from his face.

Ed is looking at him with yellow eyes, wide and searching.

“Is it... is it always like this?” he wants to know, something like trepidation in his voice.

Roy brushes some stray strands of hair out of his forehead, keeping his touch gentle and unobtrusive, “Like what?”

“This... intense.” A shiver runs through Ed as he tries to put it into words, “This maddening.”

“I don't know,” Roy answers truthfully, “I hear it gets better over time.”

Age and experience helped, and so did mating bonds. But for now Ed was stuck with having to endure losing control over himself again and again.

Hoping to offer some solace, Roy lies down on his side and lifts his arm in silent invitation. After a moment's hesitation, Ed dives forward, pressing close, so he is mostly shielded yet with none of the oppressive weight.

“I don't like it,” he grumbles against Roy's chest, “I don't get why anyone would ever want to grow up.”

“Well,” Roy muses, very well knowing that he will be made to regret it, “Strictly speaking, you're not exactly _grown_ up.”

Ed, of course, immediately tries to smother him with a pillow but somehow that seems worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to split it into two parts because I'm an impatient shit and want to see your reactions. Second chapter will be up in a week and will have more of Roy and Ed doing the do and (because this is me) angst. So for now, enjoy the fluffiness while it lasts and tell me all about your feels.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _The dark of the alley, the breaking of day_ _  
_ _The head while I'm driving, I'm driving_ _  
_ _Soft lips are open, knuckles are pale_ _  
_ _Feels like you're dying, you're dying”_

 

Two weeks pass before Edward bothers to show his face at headquarters again, a time during which Roy suppresses the nagging voice in his head that tells him that he had made the wrong decision after all, that he should never have let the boy into his home, let alone his bed.

Yet now there he stands, feet planted firmly on the floor, arms crossed over his chest.

“Good morning, Fullmetal,” Roy says pleasantly, not quite knowing how his subordinate will behave from now on, whether things will become tense in the office.

He needn't have worried, though. Edward Elric is unaware of most social conventions anyway.

“I'm here to return this,” he says plainly, pulling a book from within his coat and placing it on the desk.

Roy frowns down at the emblazoned cover, a heavy tome on the origins of alchemy, “I don't recall giving that to you.”

“Yeah, no, I took it when I was...,” Ed looks away shiftily, “Over.”

“So you didn't just raid my pantry and use up all my hot water,” Roy concludes, “You also stole from me.”

“Relax,” Ed shrugs, “It was a good book. You should be invested in my education.”

“... You crossed out the parts you thought were nonsense, didn't you?”

“Noo,” Ed scoffs, “I corrected them in the margins. So it's fine.”

“Considering your chicken scrawl I'm not so sure about that.”

Ed just sticks his tongue out at him. “Whatever,” he says, “Anyway, I guess I just wanted to...”

He trails off, his cheeks reddened.

“Wanted to...?” Roy prompts, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh dammit, do you have to be such as ass about it?” Ed snaps, “Thank you, okay? If that's the right thing to say in this situation? So thank you for not turning me away and... and all the rest and stuff.”

Roy stares, a startled little chuckle escaping him. He doesn't think anyone has ever thanked him for sex, unless it was directly after the deed.

“So I take it it was to your satisfaction?” he asks in a mildly teasing tone.

“Yeah,” Ed says, eyes rolled up to the ceiling as though contemplating a complicated axiom, “Yeah, it was. Soo... same thing next time?”

Roy sighs. He really shouldn't have gotten his hopes up.

“Same thing next time,” he agrees and Ed gives him a thumbs up.

 

They are lucky because Ed's next heat falls onto a weekend so Roy doesn't have to take time off from work. Instead he has to cancel his evening plans with his men, citing other obligations, and they groan and playfully complain that he is getting old and just wants to hole up at home when he could be finding willing partners for the night.

They have no idea, of course, that Roy already has one of those. In fact, everyone at the office readily seemed to have bought the continued excuse of Roy scenting Ed by proxy, especially after Havoc happened to supply an anecdote about an omega nurse serving during the Ishvalan War who had been similarly protected by a grandfatherly doctor.

It's unfortunate that Edward and Roy's arrangement isn't nearly quite as chaste.

Ed insists on fucking face to face this time and it's somewhat unsettling because, as soon as he is a little more lucid again, he starts watching Roy.

“Could you, ah, stop that?” Roy asks, sweat beading on his brow.

“Hm, no,” Ed says thoughtfully and then he clenches down around Roy, making him moan, “I'm collecting data.”

“This is not an experiment,” Roy claims, vindictively angling his next thrust so that it has Edward arching slightly, “And I am not a specimen.”

But the look on Ed's face clearly shows that he disagrees.

“Come down here,” he says, pulling Roy towards him, and Roy obliges. A second later, though, he feels Edward's lips on his.

Oh. They hadn't done that before, mostly because Roy had assumed that Edward would think it too personal. Edward, however, seems otherwise inclined.

It's a child's kiss, his mouth closed and his breath held, and Roy finds himself vaguely endeared by that innocence that had been much less apparent when Ed had been on his knees before him, begging to be fucked. So he presses forward, coaxes Ed's lips apart and slips his tongue inside. Ed gasps a little in surprise, but lets it happen, catches on pretty quickly and then kisses back.

“This is... so weird,” he says against Roy's mouth but it's obvious that he is very much enjoying this new addition.

“Glad to, hm, glad to be of service,” Roy hums because he cannot deny that he is getting something out of this, too.

Between all the fucking, their time spent together is actually quite pleasant as well. When Ed is coherent enough, they talk about alchemy. Roy cooks for them, simple things that don't demand much supervision, a precaution for when Ed happens to jump him again.

Ed is a – possibly – still growing boy in the middle of his heat and it's only normal that he would be ravenous, but Roy's alpha instincts tell him to provide for the omega so seeing the gusto with which Ed inhales everything put in front of him pleases him greatly.

When Ed leaves on Sunday evening and after a shower to wash away the smell of sex but not of Roy, he turns around in the door and gives a cheeky salute.

“See ya,” he says around a grin and then spins away again, damp braid whipping over his shoulder.

Roy stays behind and gives a private little smile.

 

Things change, as they are wont to do. Whenever Ed is East City he drops by the office a lot. Certainly more often than before.

It'd be less conspicuous if he only were there to catch up with the rest of the team, as he had been known to do before. But now he always finds excuses to slip into Roy's office as well, sometimes just to nap on the couch, or to act like he has to rewrite one of his reports.

Roy finds himself somewhat exasperated but he really shouldn't have expected otherwise. As an unfortunate side effect of their liaison, Ed's instincts tell him to be his around his alpha. Or rather to _make_ him his alpha and convince him of initiating a mating bond.

Not that Edward would ever admit to that. He's probably not even aware of it himself.

But he's here and he is spreading his scent all over Roy's belongings, and that doesn't exactly make things easier.

Roy has been heat partner to various omegas before, but never on a long-term basis. This might get dangerous real quick if either of them got too attached. However, telling Ed to stay away was risky as well because it might upset the fragile trust they had established, the trust that was necessary for their arrangement to work in the first place.

“I think... Al thinks I've been sleeping around,” he confides one day, toying with Roy's stapler, “'cause he can't smell you and stuff. And I just leave for two days and then come back like nothing happened, but I still wear your shirts, so he assumes I've got no one permanent.”

Permanent is not exactly the word Roy would use since they had only spent two of Ed's heats together which amounted to a grand total of three and a half days. But they had begun their arrangement five months ago now, and before that there had already been the scenting, so somehow the edges have become a little blurred.

So not permanent, no. Constant, maybe. Steady.

Eventually, however, something's got to give and Roy finds himself called into Major General Abbot's office.

The woman doesn't ask him to sit or to stand at ease, just sternly looks at him from across her table. Roy finds himself vaguely unnerved by that, if only because he knows that this is exactly what he would be doing in a similar situation.

“Colonel Mustang,” she addresses him sharply, “Do you know why you have been called here?”

“No, ma'am,” he replies, though he does have a suspicion.

“There are rumors going around that you and Major Elric are mated,” she tells him without beating around the bush, “Anything you have to say to that?”

“Those allegations are just that, ma'am. Rumors,” he keeps staring straight ahead, his voice even, “The situation is still as I explained it to the board. I am scenting Major Elric by proxy in order to protect him from unwanted attention. He himself has confirmed that this strategy has been working well.”

For a moment, Major General Abbot doesn't say anything, just keeps watching him with her pale blue eyes.

“So you and Elric are not, in fact, mated?” she asks at length.

“No, ma'am,” Roy replies.

“You are not intending to mate?”

“No, ma'am.”

“You have not offered to become his heat partner?”

“No, ma'am,” Roy says and it's not even a lie because he had not offered. Edward had simply pushed.

Abbot sighs, leaning back in her chair.

“Very well, Mustang,” she says, waving a hand at him, “Dismissed.”

He snaps into a salute and then turns away, walking back to the door. He's almost through the threshold when her voice stops him once more.

“But, Mustang,” she adds, making him look back at her.

“You should be careful,” she warns, “Mere scenting is rarely enough to keep other alphas away.”

Roy inclines his head.

 

Somehow word must get out that Flame and Fullmetal are really not involved, despite what their scents are saying. Roy has been showering like crazy but even that isn't enough to wash away all of Edward's smell.

Now, though, there is a sort of buzzing to the base because it has been confirmed that there is an unclaimed omega among them. Now Edward, who had been a source of envy for some and admiration for others, is no longer what a couple of the soldiers thought of as the military's mascot. Now he is a prize.

“Ugh,” Ed complains, storming into the office and throwing the door shut behind himself once more, “I hate people.”

“I'm sure you belong to a superior species, but I most certainly do not, so I have to wonder why you would seek out my company,” Roy says lackadaisically, not even looking up from his papers.

“Okay, let me rephrase that, I hate stupid fucking alphas who don't get that no means no,” Ed grouches and at that Roy's head jerks up.

“Did anyone get close to you?” he growls and then stops himself because that reaction is way too possessive for his own taste. Thankfully Ed doesn't seem to notice and only cracks his knuckles.

“Some tried,” he says darkly.

“Who,” Roy demands because he does indeed have to report it. Sexual harassment was still sexual harassment, even if an unmated omega was a new thing within the ranks.

“I don't know,” Ed shrugs, “I didn't exactly try to get to know them. Some lieutenants, I guess. A brigadier general.”

Roy's pen stills where it is poised above the paper. The lieutenants could be easily dealt with because they were ranked below Ed. But if a brigadier general was involved then that meant it was one of Roy's superiors. And that might get unpleasant.

“Did they say anything to you?” he asks, forcefully calm.

“Nah,” Ed shrugs again, “Nothing I haven't heard before. Some catcalls. Some alpha posturing. Really annoying.” He gives Roy a considering look, almost appreciative, “You never do that, huh?”

“I don't need to,” Roy huffs, “In my opinion, an alpha's strength – or anyone's, for that matter – is not dependent on them constantly having to flaunt their accomplishments or their supposed physical prowess.”

Ed rolls his eyes, “Right, instead they should just hold grand speeches and throw big words around.”

At that, Roy allows himself a small smile, “Much like you, I believe.”

“Diaminomaleonitrile,” Ed says and gives a toothy grin, “Diethyl azodicarboxylate.”

“Case in point,” Roy puts down his pen, “So care to tell me what you came here for if not to make an official complaint?”

“Just to rant,” Ed admits, “And to, y' know.”

Roy frowns, “I don't think I do.”

“You know,” Ed makes a vague gesture towards his own neck, “Do the thing.”

Ah. They had never done that directly, not outside of Ed's heat at least.

“That will get your scent on me as well,” Roy points out.

“I know,” Ed moans, annoyed, “But the shirt thing is obviously not enough to keep the idiots away.”

And then he has already moved behind the desk, planting himself in the space between Roy's knees and pushing his collar aside.

“Come on, come on,” he urges under his breath, “Your scent has almost faded.”

So Roy complies and drags his fingers through Ed's hair as they rub their faces against each others' necks, Ed nosing the soft spot underneath his jaw. And it should be weird to do this when they are not affected by Ed's heat. But what's weirder is that it isn't weird at all, and that Ed himself seems so completely at ease with it.

“I've been meaning to ask,” Ed says, muffled against his skin, “Why are you so in control of yourself? Most alphas aren't like that. Heck, some betas aren't.”

“I was raised by my aunt. Who happens to run a brothel,” Roy chuckles, correctly anticipating Ed pulling back in surprise. “I was around omegas a lot. At some point you get used to the scent.”

Basically, he had had not other choice. Puberty had been hell.

Ed huffs, shakes his head a little, but then his nose scrunches up.

“What?” Roy asks because there has to be more to it.

“It's just... really strange to think of you as a kid,” Ed admits, looking vaguely freaked out, “I bet you were a nerd.”

“Pot, kettle,” Roy hums and then pushes him away, “Off with you now. I occasionally do have work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed waves a hand but does make toward the door. Before he can open it, though, Roy clears his throat.

“Fullmetal,” he points out, gently coughing into his fist, “You might want to fix your hair before you leave.”

 

Havoc's nose twitches when they go to grab lunch and he throws Roy a sideways glance.

“Did you get you and the boss get into a fight?” he asks in askance.

Roy schools his features, “Sorry?”

Havoc gives a twirl of his finger, “Your scent was all over him more than usual. But you smell like him, too.”

“Just a small disagreement about his performance during the latest mission,” Roy lies smoothly.  
“He got all up in your face again, huh?” Havoc nods sagely, “I love the little guy but he sure leads a racy life.”

“Indeed,” Roy smiles to himself, relieved that for all their reliability and eye for detail, his team seems oblivious of his arrangement with Edward. He has a suspicion that Hawkeye might have caught on but if so then she had refrained from saying anything. Not because it wasn't her place but maybe because she could see the validity of the solution. At least that's how Roy tries to justify it, justify his own all too easy willingness to fall into bed with Edward.

They step into the canteen and at once several heads of the people sat near the door turn into his direction, nostrils flaring.

Roy cants his chin up, proudly strutting through the mess, ever aware of their eyes on him, even as he keeps up his amicable conversation with Havoc. They had smelled him on Edward and they hadn't backed off. But now they smelled Edward upon him and they would be forced to respect that. An omega's decision always superseded that of an alpha. If the scenting was mutual, then that was a clear sign that their chances were lowered severely.

It isn't as meaningful as a mark, as an actual mating bond. But it's all Roy would get and therefore he allows himself these short moments of triumph.

 

Edward's lips part as his head falls back, his hair cascading down his back, a silvery waterfall in the lacking light in the bedroom. He's nestled in Roy's lap and they are intertwined like this, just rocking against each other, face to face, hollow-mouthed huffs of air breathed into the space between them.

It's different from what they've usually done, not just chasing orgasm, but driving each other to the fringes on sanity.

Ed had returned from the South with new scratches on his automail and bruises littering his torso, fading from deep purple to sickly green. It worries Roy as his commander, enrages him as his alpha, to think that there is so much happening on the Elrics' travels that he barely even hears about. Edward could throw himself down the gullet of some behemoth, and the earliest Roy might find out would be hours later, via telegram, an obituary in staccato style.

Major Elric dead STOP. Eaten by monster STOP. All your fault STOP.

And yet Edward is the epitome of what it means to survive, to claw his way out of death's nimble fingers. He'd slice open the belly of whatever creature dared devour him.

Yes, Edward is strong, but in moments such as these he is also surprisingly pliant.

Roy puts his hands on the headboard, hooks his arms underneath Ed's knees and bends him in half, Ed's fingernails scrambling for purchase on his sweaty shoulders.

“Roy,” he hitches out because that's what he's started to call him now when they are alone and, after years of ranks and insults, it's more intimate that any kiss could ever be.

Roy nestles his face against Ed's neck, thoroughly scenting him, and then he is sucking on the warm skin, starting out gently but growing more daring. Ed keens, breathless and overwhelmed.

Roy bites.

It's a small bite, a temporary one, more of a hickey really, easily covered up once he'd be dressed again, but Roy regrets it as soon as it is done.

In his arms, Ed's back arches. He jerks, once, twice, gives a full-bodied shiver, and then comes all over himself. Roy struggles to hold him up, his muscles cramping. He pushes his hips, once, twice, into the spasms of Edward's body, and in that moment the friction is just right, just perfect, and a split second later the tension breaks, blindsides him, and he is coming as well, grits his teeth and rides it out.

The fatigue is instantaneous and he carefully lowers Ed back onto the mattress, peels their damp skin apart, before settling down as well.

For a few minutes they lie in silence, waiting to cool down.

Outside it is dark, the night only illuminated by the street lamps reflection off the thick fuzzy snowflakes that have been coming down for hours.

At some point, Roy shivers and pulls up the covers, huddling underneath and leaving enough space so that Ed won't even be able to complain about him being a blanket hog. This time, though, there is none of their usual post-coital banter.

Instead Ed says, very softly, “You bit me.”

Roy stiffens, stares up into the darkness.

“I-, yes,” he admits in chagrin, “But that wasn't my intention.”  
“... what's that supposed to mean?”

“It's not an actual mating bite,” Roy assures him, keeping his voice even, “So don't worry, it won't take. Probably will fade by tomorrow.”

The pillows ruffles as Ed rolls onto his side and Roy can practically feel the incredulous stare.

Of course Ed would be upset. Even accidentally trying to mark a heat partner was a serious breach of trust. Roy had violated not just their own unspoken agreement but also several cultural norms.

He expects Ed to slap him, to at least fire off some curses and then pull all the blankets onto his side of the bed. But none of that happens.

Instead, there is just a quiet inhale, a little shaky maybe, but nothing more than that.

An hour later, Ed's heat spikes up once more and they don't talk about the bite again.

 

In the following weeks, Ed's behavior changes. He becomes more moody than before, erratic and subservient by turns, and Roy cannot pinpoint the reason why. It's not just their relationship that is affected by this, but the rest of the team notices as well when Ed is curt with them and sometimes downright mean. Alphonse complains about his brother alternatively holing himself up in their dorm room or leaving for hours on end, apparently going on long walks from which he returns tired and with an even worse disposition.

Roy... worries. Especially since he seems to be taking the brunt of Edward's mood swings but that is nothing new so no one even bothers to comment.

But Roy can only hope that Ed at least reigns himself in in the presence of strangers. If word got back to the brass that their omega was getting too much to handle, Roy would have a hard time pleading his case again.

With Ed's next heat quickly approaching, he plans to get to the bottom of things.

So he invites Ed over a little earlier than usual, prepares a nice meal so they can talk over dinner, as equals and not yet influenced by Edward's pheromones.

Roy must have miscalculated the timing, though, must have been half a day off when previously Ed's cycle had proven to be rather regular. So when the bell rings, again and again, he goes to open the door and finds Edward already frenetic and wild-eyed.

“Oh,” Roy says, mentally checking whether he had already turned off the stove. The next moment, Edward is barreling into him, clawing at his shirt.

“Edward,” Roy says, “Edward, slow down.”

Ed makes a frustrated noise and then he kicks the toes of his left boot against the back of Roy's knee, making it buckle underneath him, hitting the floor. The impact jars Roy, but not nearly as much as the kiss does when Ed buries his fingers in his hair and tilts his head back, biting at his lips.

He keeps his mouth on Roy's, begins shrugging out of his clothes in a harried manner, fighting buttons and clasps, but eventually managing to free himself, baring his skin that seems to be radiating heat like a furnace.

Despite the fact that Roy should know better, he gets swept along anyway, his slacks tightening with each square inch of Ed's nudity. He unbuttons his pants, only attempting to lift some of the pressure, but Edward has other ideas.

He's all naked now and he shoves at Roy till he falls back on his rump, intent on straddling him.

“The bedroom, Ed,” Roy reminds him, thinking of the tin of slick he keeps there, the tin he's had to refill several times over the span of the past nine months.

“Shh-h,” Ed presses trembling fingers against his lips, as though trying to push any objections back inside, “It's okay, I already- I couldn't wait, I just couldn't, you have to-”

And indeed when Roy finds him, his finger slips in easily, Ed's body eagerly welcoming him, grinding back down and then wriggling away again, obviously desperate for something else as he unzips Roy's fly.

“Ed,” Roy tries again, “I mean it, we need-”

But Ed just howls, reaching for his discarded coat and pulling a condom from it, throwing it at Roy.

“Please,” he begs, and Roy doesn't think he's ever seen him so consumed by his heat.

He moves quickly then, doesn't want to let it get any worse. But once more Edward takes charge of the situation. In one smooth movement he climbs into Roy's lap, pushing against his chest to keep him down, the other hand reaching between his legs to guide himself onto Roy's cock.

A breath escapes him, nothing more than that, a slow exhale until he is fully seated. For a moment he pauses like this, blissful. Then he lifts himself up and slams back down.

Roy holds on to his hips, reins in his erratic motions as Ed rides him. However, when Roy sits up and starts wetly mouthing along his neck, the omega grows even more frantic.

“Just do it,” he pleads, pressing into the touch, “Come on, don't you want me?”

Roy freezes.

This is not something he had foreseen but what he should have expected all along. Spending four heats with each other, especially since Ed had never been with another partner, was bound to have him desperate for a bond. His instincts were telling him that he was at risk of not finding anyone else, and so he wanted to secure whatever option was at hand.

“No, Ed,” Roy refuses firmly, lifting his mouth away from the boy's neck to try and catch his eye, “You know I can't.”

Ed's reaction, however, is much more violent than he could have anticipated.

“Why not,” the boy moans miserably, scratching at his own skin, and there are tears shimmering between his lashes, “Why am I never enough, please, I'll do anything, anything, I swear, just-”

Roy has to press him down onto the floor then to keep him from injuring himself, holds down his wrists and slowly fucks him through his panic.

So Ed whines and whimpers until his sobs sound more like moans again, until he comes despite himself, until Roy can carry him off to the bedroom and pray that the rest of this heat passes more easily.

 

“I'm feeling a little under the weather,” Roy tells Hawkeye over the phone when morning has come. He twists the cord around his fingers in a nervous manner, “I think I better stay in for today.”

For a moment there is nothing but silence from her.

“I hope you know what you are doing, sir,” she says at length.

Unbidden, Roy's gaze drops down to the omega that is curled up on his bed, exhausted and asleep after their long night. The heat was not yet sated, though, Roy could tell. As soon as Ed woke up again, they'd start anew.

“I do,” Roy says, forcing himself to look away again, “Don't let the team slack off when I'm not there.”

“Of course,” she replies with a tiny sigh, “See you tomorrow, sir.”

“Yes,” Roy agrees, “Hopefully.”

 

Sunrise and when Roy returns from the bathroom, he finds Edward sitting on the far end of the bed.

He's got his hands lifted behind his head, threading his hair into a messy braid.

“Need help with that?” Roy asks, still somewhat drunk on sleep and hormones, as he rolls back onto the mattress.

But Ed just shakes his head, leans forward to grab his pants off the chair, neatly folded and put there by Roy. Roy watches as Edward gets slips into them. He blinks.

“You're leaving already,” he realizes, stupefied.

Ed just hums in agreement, and it's strange because his heat is not yet over and Roy can smell it on him.

“You're still-,” he begins, only to be cut off by Ed.

“I think I'll manage.”

He isn't wrong in that, of course. Once the worst of the heat has been taken care off – and they had made sure of that the previous day -, it is much easier for an omega to spend the rest of it on their own. It's just that Ed had never chosen to leave quite so early, despite his claims of having to return to his research as soon as possible.

“Are you sure?” Roy tries, “I can call the off-”

“Don't use me as an excuse to skip work, Mustang,” Ed gripes, and there is a hint of his usual snark in there, but it's somehow... not enough. It sounds forced, like a facsimile of the real thing.

Roy purses his lips, “Do you want a shower then?”

Ed stills as if that question demanded some serious consideration.

“No,” he decides at length, “No, not yet.”

Roy frowns, “Ed, you'll smell of me. Someone might-”  
“I know how to get into the dorm without anyone noticing,” Ed says, “And Al can't smell it anyway. So no worries.”

And Roy should be worried, should be worried about someone figuring it out because then the jig would be up. Instead his instincts are rebelling at the thought of letting the omega go when it clearly wasn't time yet. So Roy curbs his desire has he has taught himself.

“Then let me at least see you off,” he says, sitting up again and getting out of bed.

“I think I'll find the way,” Ed huffs, but doesn't object any more than that.

His boots are still in the hallway where he had so urgently kicked them off, but Roy had later nudged them over to the side so he wouldn't stumble on his way to the kitchen when he went to make Ed some snacks. Now, Ed is forcing his feet into them, mismatched socks and all, one naked toe peaking out of a hole, until it is covered up once more but tough sturdy leather.

When he straightens up again, Roy has already taken the red coat off the hook and is offering it for Ed to slip into. For a second, Ed just looks at it, as though he were surprised that it would still be there, but then he wrangles his arms into the sleeves.

He'd be ready to go then, to walk out the door like he has done several times now, never really looking back, but coming back each time anyway. Now, he lingers, slightly angled away from Roy but close enough to touch.

They don't touch, though, and they certainly don't kiss. Kisses are for when Roy does something particularly good in bed. Kisses are when Ed is moaning so loudly Roy can't think of any other way to silence him. Kisses are meant for heat.

“Let me know if you've got a new mission or whatever,” Ed tells him and that is strange, too. They'd agreed to not let their arrangement enter the office, but instead it had turned into never talking about work when it was just the two of them.

“Of course,” Roy says and shivers a little, cursing himself for not putting on his dressing gown.

“Well then,” Ed turns to open the door, stepping out into the morning. Roy glances up at the overhung sky. Summer is fast approaching, but for mid-May it is undeniably too cold. When he looks back, Edward is already down by the gate, letting it swing shut behind himself.

After a moment, Roy steps back and closes the door.

It feels like a severe kind of goodbye.

 

When Roy comes in to work that day, Hawkeye actually looks surprised to see him.

“Feeling better, sir?” Falman inquires politely.

“I... yes,” Roy replies, despite the fact that his skin is rubbed raw from his attempts to scrub any evidence from his body, “Thank you.”

“Then you won't have to take it easy today,” Hawkeye says in a tone that manages to sound both pleasant and threatening at the same time while still passing as neutral, “Your work has piled up. Considering you've been taking sick days quite regularly.”

Roy gives her his best debonair smile, “The stress must be getting to me.”

“That or any strenuous pastimes you might be pursuing,” she hums and turns away before he can figure out whether it's a dig at his general habit of flirting or his specific custom of leaving Edward Elric thoroughly debauched.

So he just sighs quietly and goes to sit behind his desk, the office chair creaking under his weight, before he turns his attention to the paperwork already set in front of him. The narrow inky letters, however, are rather a bit of a letdown, considering he had expected to spend this day barely even leaving the bed, painting nonsensical patterns onto Ed's skin with his fingertips.

“Imagine an array,” Ed had told him one of those times when Roy has inquired how exactly the boy's alchemy worked, “Just that your entire body becomes the array and when you clap your hands you close the circle. You just have to envision what you want it to do.”

And then he had rolled on top of Roy and tasted the inside of his mouth.

In moments like these, Ed had always seemed playful yet professional. He'd never let the side effects of his heat get the better of him, never demanded anything from Roy. This time had been different, though. The lines separating them had blurred and Roy didn't quite know what to make of it. Now, a little more clear-headed but still a lot confused, he tries to make sense of Ed's hot-and-cold behavior of the previous days.

As an alpha, Madame Christmas always scented her girls in order to protect them, to remind their clients that they were still off limits. Roy recalls a conversation he had with her when he had been more boy than man, and she had explained to him how important it was in this business to keep things strictly professional on all sides.

“Some omegas – or people in general,” she had amended, “Get confused. To them sex means love and love demands a bond. And if they can't get the bond, they get even more confused. Can't really blame them, though.”

And Roy, young and ignorant had asked, “Why not?”

“Just use your head,” she had said, pointing one of her long slim cigarettes at him, “Every time they have sex, their instincts tell them they might conceive. So they have to ensure that they will have an alpha who stays by their side to provide for them. If they do not have one, it severely lowers their chances of survival, and that of their offspring.”

Roy had never quite thought of it like that before, but now he wonders whether something similar was happening here. Maybe he should address the topic with Edward so that they could talk things out, figure out a solution.

 

It's difficult to find an opportunity, though. Ed isn't in the office as often as he used to be, going on more missions again and not bothering to send in any reports. Some days Roy only knows he is doing well because he gets complaints about blown-up buildings and usurped mayors.

But that's good, Roy tries to tell himself. Most likely it means that Edward is focused on his quest once more, that he and Alphonse have found some leads and are much too busy to return to East City.

“They should be back soon,” Hawkeye says one day when she hands Roy a stack of reports.

“Pardon?” Roy looks up at her with a blasé expression, “I don't think I know to whom you are referring.”

“The Elrics,” she elaborates and on anyone else it would sound like exasperation.

“Yes, I do believe their return is scheduled at some point this week,” he replies flippantly, turning back to his papers.

“Tomorrow, to be exact,” she nods like she knows that he knows. Which she most likely does.

But then again, he's always liked to play with fire.

 

When tomorrow comes and Ed is back in town, Roy waits for him to show up. But he doesn't, instead just hands in his report after hours via the pigeon holes. So when Roy finds it the next morning he realizes that he will be forced to officially call Fullmetal in.

“Good afternoon,” Roy greets him.

Ed has his hands shoved into his pockets, “Do you have any assignments for me?”

Roy blinks once, caught off guard by both the rude reaction and the flat tone. And there is something else that unsettles him, something-

“You should stay in town for now,” he hints out instead because next week Ed's heat would hit again.

“Yeah, about that,” Ed scuffs his heels against the hardwood floor, “I don't think we should be doing that anymore.”

Roy stills, “Pardon?”

“It's gotten too messy,” Ed's shoulders lift and lower in a shrug, “So, yeah. No more of that.”

Roy has to fight the instinct to vehemently object to that blunt revelation. After all, Ed was the one who had started this whole thing, Ed would be the one who ended it. That had been implied from the very beginning. Roy had no say in this matter. They weren't bonded, after all.

So Roy just bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood.

“Very well,” he nods, “You should still stay in town. The first time after a heat partner tends to be more intense. That is... unless you have someone else in mind?”

His heart immediately rebels at the thought of that, the idea of Edward taking someone else as his lover. But no. Roy was never his lover. Just a means to an end.

“Um, no,” Ed is blushing heavily and his gaze is down on the floor, “I think I'll manage.”

Quiet relief followed quickly by a rush of shame.

“Good,” Roy says nevertheless, “In any case, report back once you are feeling better.”

A pause, waiting for Edward to say something. He doesn't.

“... Dismissed, Fullmetal.”

 

Only later that day, when Roy is at home and slipping out of his uniform, does he belatedly realize what had been off during their encounter.

Before the mission, Roy had provided Ed with another supply of clothes, worn cotton shirts and woolen sweaters, clothes that smelled of him and his home and his open fire place.

Yet Ed had not smelled like that. He had smelled of dusty libraries and dusty roads and that heart fragrance that was common among all young omegas, sweet and alluring, even outside of their heat.

Ed's scent had marked him as a blank page, no alpha, no nothing. He didn't even have Alphonse's family scent to protect him because Alphonse had no scent in the first place.

So Edward had been so repulsed by how their relationship had escalated that he had decided to purge every last memory of Roy from his body. There was no scent now, no mark. Ed was nothing more than his subordinate.

Roy sleeps fitfully that night, in his bed that shouldn't feel so empty after only sharing it a couple of times, in his sheets that he only washed three days ago and that will never again carry Edward's scent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep, three parts after all, just to add some tension.  
> Also, I feel like this chapter feels a little disjoined because it contains only a couple of scenes but covered a span of several months. Maybe I'll flesh it out at a later point to make it flow more smoothly.
> 
> Sooo, whadaya think?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed last week's update because I was super busy, but I hope this ending will have been worth the wait.

“ _Hot as a fever, rattling bones_ _  
__I could just taste it, taste it_ _  
__If it's not forever, if it's just tonight_ _  
__Oh, it's still the greatest, the greatest, the greatest”_

Eight days of Ed not showing his face, eight days of Roy preserving his dignity, not allowing himself to show his humiliation, his indignation, his shame. It is far easier to call it that in his head, to think himself of having been slighted and rejected and that it was nothing but a minor blow to his ego, a scratch in the paint job.

Instead it feels like the entire car broke down, like someone took the wheel and drove into a tree, with Roy there in the passenger seat, speechless, powerless. Whiplash, and he is hurt because when he had thought of the things he feared to lose this had not been among them. Ed had not been among them. And yet now he is.

At the same time, however, he is among the things that Roy cannot ever have. As it was and as it should be.

“Lunch, chief?” Havoc asks, already fiddling a cigarette from the pack in his chest pocket, “Breda says it's on him if he can't fit three entire hot dogs into his mouth.”

Breda would win the bet, Havoc would lose and bemoan the loss of his hard-earned money, Fuery would giggle so hard he snorted water out of his nose, and Falman would look on with a stiff if somewhat indulgent smile.

Roy, though, Roy would barely even taste the food and their antics would only remind him of Ed spilling coffee on Roy's sheets without even apologizing for it.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Roy says, “But I best finish these papers.”

Havoc gives him a stupefied look but then follows it up with a careless shrug. “Fine by me,” he says, stuffing the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and giving it a twirl, “I'll bring you a sandwich, then.”

“Turkey club?” Roy asks.

“Turkey club,” Havoc nods easily and then clicks his tongue, “Later, chief.”

And Roy dedicates himself to his papers, his work, his career. He has plans. He needs to go somewhere in life. There is no point in lamenting could-have-beens. Daydreams are for children and old men. Roy is neither.

His pen scratches over the paper and his eyes strain down at the small letters, and yet he cannot keep from glancing at the clock over the door, getting more and more edgy with each passing minute and being painfully aware of the reason.

Because alphas do not have a cycle per se, but they do tend to attune to their partners, and now Roy's instincts were telling him that he needed to be with his omega.

There was no such thing, though. Only Fullmetal who had cut all ties of that nature between them.

It was alright. Soon enough, Roy would acclimate again and it would be like nothing had ever happened.

The world tilts into a macabre kind of déjà vu, however, when the door suddenly bursts open and Alphonse Elric barrels into the room.

“Something's wrong with brother,” he announces, panic in his voice, even more so than there had been during the time Ed accidentally overdosed all those months ago.

Roy is on his feet and out the door in a flash, vaguely grateful that the outer office is empty so no one can witness his immediate agitation.

“Did he take blockers again?” he demands to know because if Ed really hadn't found some other alpha it seemed like the most plausible explanation.

“No, I don't think so.” Despite his size, Alphonse has to hurry to keep up with him as they make their way out of headquarters, “But he's really out of it and he- he keeps saying your name.”

Withdrawal, then. Dammit, Roy should have expected it, what with Ed's violent reactions before. But it wasn't like he could have forced the boy to keep him on as a heat partner.

In his single-minded determination to get to Ed as soon as possible, he almost forgets that he has no idea which way to go. But as always, Alphonse proves to be extremely dependable, even under duress.

“We're staying at the Heather Hotel,” he reveals, making a sharp left turn at the next corner before sheepishly adding, “We were no longer allowed at any omega inns after last time.”

Roy just gives a curt nod and quickens his strides once more. He knows where the hotel is located and it's not far, but it still seems like it might take eternities to get there.

They move in silence, apart from Al's hollow thudding and Roy's blood loud in his ears. However, he is not too distracted to feel the boy staring at him.

“Out with it,” he growls, too impatient to care for manners or other meaningless things. Still, Alphonse remains silent for a few moments longer.

“You were brother's heat partner, weren't you?” he asks, very quietly, “He never told me, but it makes sense. He wouldn't choose anyone he didn't trust.”

“That's not- That wasn't was it was about,” Roy objects, though he feels the back of his neck growing hot, caught off guard by being addressed so directly about this matter.

Alphonse only gives a thoughtful humming noise and then Roy doesn't care anymore because he can see the hotel just a little ways ahead.

True to its name, the small front-yard and the entrance are lined by scrubs of white and lavender heather, the smell of it heady in the late summer air. And maybe it's just his imagination, but Roy thinks that despite that he can still make out Edward's scent underneath it all.

This time, when they enter, they are not stopped by anyone.

“On the right,” Alphonse just informs him, “Room 12. I had to lock the door.”

He reveals a key that he must have tightly held in his clenched fist the entire time and Roy snatches it up like it promised to unlock a trove of treasures. In a way, it does. He jams it into the lock, turns it roughly, barely waits to hear it click open before he pushes down the door handle, pushes inside.

Ed's scent hits him like a wall, a warm and welcoming wall, and he is so gone on it it takes him a moment to clear his senses. When he does, the first thing he sees is Edward, half-naked and feverish, surging up from the bed across the room and moving towards him with teetering steps.

He is weak as a kitten, but he doesn't seem to care, just throws himself into Roy's open arms and begins to rub up against him, obviously trying to mash their scents.

“Roy,” he whispers in confused disbelief, his voice hoarse, “Roy, you're here, you're here, I thought you didn't want me, I thought-”

“Shh, shh,” Roy soothes, bending his knees to pick Ed up and carry him back to the bed, “It's alright. I'm here now. It's alright.”

“I'll, um, I'll best leave,” Alphonse announces from his place in the threshold and then proceeds to make himself scarce, firmly closing the door. The Elric brothers, Roy thinks, are very lucky to have one another.

Yet Edward doesn't even react to his brother's announcement or to the door closing, and that in itself is saying something. Instead he keeps his arms tightly wound around the back of Roy's neck, refusing to release him, even as he is being set down on the mattress once more.

“Edward,” Roy says, gently trying to free himself, though he does not want to lose the touch either, “Just let go for a second.”

But Ed shakes his head, an odd mixture between weak and vehement.

“Don't leave,” he whispers like a broken record, dried tear tracks on his tender face, “Please don't leave, please don't leave, please-”

The litany is like a bucket of ice water being dumped on Roy's head because there is still something inherently wrong with the Fullmetal Alchemist begging anyone in such a manner. Yet at the same time a fire seems to ignite in Roy's guts.

When the symptoms had gotten worse, Ed could have gone and found some other alpha. Many would have been willing. And maybe he had tried to do that and that was the reason why Alphonse had been forced to lock the door. Or maybe what the boy had said was true, that Edward trusted Roy, that he had been calling his name, that he wanted him.

Maybe this was bound to happen from the beginning.

Roy puts two fingers underneath Ed's chin and Ed easily follows the movement until his face it titled toward Roy's, and then Roy bends down and kisses him so thoroughly that when he tries to pry Edward's fingers from his collar they unfurl all by themselves, like moon flowers at night.

Ed quivers a sigh into his mouth but then he is already struggling out of his shorts, his lips never leaving Roy's. And, accepting the inevitable, welcoming it, relishing, Roy begins to rid himself of his own uniform, heedless of the many buttons and clasps, shrugging off his jacket, pulling his undershirt over his head so it messes up his hair.

He's not a colonel in this, not Ed's commanding officer. He is here of his own choosing, because of destiny and duty, because of something that cannot be fully named.

Edward is on his hands and knees again, much like during their first time, only now he is both more experienced and more wanton than before. And just like their last time, he is ready, wet enough that no more slick is needed but that that certain edge of friction will still be there, leaving them breathless.

Roy is struck by the mental image of Ed writhing in bed, furiously fucking himself open on his fingers, moaning Roy's name, while Alphonse had to sit outside the door and listen and wait. No wonder the boy had eventually just given up and went to get Roy's help.

Edward would be terribly embarrassed by the time he figured out just what he had revealed about himself, but Roy cannot help but be pleased.

Technically, Edward was the head of the family, especially since his brother hadn't presented yet, so their affair hadn't really been illicit in that regard. But it still meant something that Alphonse now knew about their relationship and that he had actually seemed to approve. Like being given a blessing for something Roy had tried very hard to convince himself was a bad idea.

He doesn't waste any more time then, just sinks his fingers into the tangle of Ed's hair, tugging his head back till his neck bends gracefully. His other hand on the omega's hip, Roy lines himself up and then just thrusts forward, simultaneously yanking at Ed's scalp.

Ed gives a sharp little gasp, overwhelmed but still finding that it is not yet enough. It's no surprise, really. Judging by the state Roy had found him in, his heat must have kicked in hours ago and by now he was probably at the end of his rope.

What he needs is not just an alpha, but a hard fuck. And Roy is more than willing to provide one.

They do not need to find their rhythm. Sex can be a sensual dance, yes, with both partners anticipating the others' movements, twisting and undulating and always meeting in between. But Roy has found that, between the two of them, it is always more about unstoppable forces and immovable objects. It's about paradoxical conundrums.

Ed braces himself against the mattress, keeps in one place, his entire frame trembling with the effort, while Roy slams into him from behind, again and again, tilting his hips in that angle that soon has Ed gasping for more.

He fits his palm over the back of Ed's neck and pushes him down, holds him there, more dominating that he has ever dared to be before, ever worried of wounding Edward's pride and overstepping his boundaries.

Now, though, Edward claws at the sheets and he feebly bites his own wrist to hold in his drawn-out moan, but then is is already coming, heaving spasms that rock his body back into Roy, bucking upwards.

Yet Roy can tell that it's still insufficient. It's just a side effect of the withdrawal but even orgasm does not seem enough to curb the frenzy. There's no need to worry, though. Soon, Edward would calm down, maybe aided by some sedatives to tide him over, but come morning he would be mostly back to normal.

That's what Roy's knowledge and his logic say. His instincts, however, are roaring, demanding he give his omega what he wants, what he deserves. His instincts tell him to bite.

He flips Ed around, descends, covering him with his body, and Ed lets his legs slay open, recklessly scratching red trails down Roy's glistening back.

The skin of Ed's neck, damp with cold sweat, tastes of salt and promise, and Roy will forever remember it. He digs his teeth into the strained tendons, deeper than is strictly necessary, and Ed stills, his breath hitching, like a small animal between the jaws of a predator.

He trusts him, though, trusts him not to snap his spine and devour him.

“Yes,” Ed whimpers, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of Roy's neck as Roy begins to lap at the wound, even as his hips keep moving erratically, “Yes.”

Roy's pride swells.

His omega, this beautiful terrifying amazing creature, wants him, wants him so badly he had rather starved himself than look for another alpha, has wanted him from the beginning instead of anyone else.

He comes with the tang of blood on his tongue.

 

Afterwards, when it is done and Roy can grasp a coherent thought again, he stands in the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face which looks back from the splattered mirror, mute and pale.

There's a first aid kit in the cabinet and he pulls it out, opens the lid, relieved to find a bottle of rubbing alcohol and ointment. Human mouths were full of bacteria so it was best to disinfect and properly treat the wound.

Thinking of the practicalities makes is slightly easier to ignore reality for a little while longer. The reality that he had forced a mating mark onto someone who was unable to really consent.

When he steps back into the room, Edward is already awake as well, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He is still naked, the sheets pooled around his hips, and he is writhing subtly, no doubt still restless from the lingering heat, but his flesh hand is fingering the mark.

Roy swallows.

After a moment, he gives himself a push, though, and steps up to the bed, heavily settles down on the edge of the mattress.

“Here,” he says, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and handing it to Ed, “You should drink something.”

At his back, he can feel Edward shift and sit up, accepting the glass without a word, followed by the sounds of him downing the water in one big gulp.

Roy toys with the hinges on the lid of the first air kit, making them creak. Eventually, however, he unscrews the bottle of alcohol and douses a cotton ball with it.

“Come here, please,” he instructs, twisting around so he can reach Edward, “I need to disinfect the wound.”

Ed complies but Roy doesn't look him in the eye, just blankly stares at the side of his neck. The skin there is sore and reddened, the indentations of Roy's teeth clearly visible. It would scar and forever remind the both of them of what had happened.

Roy falters, pulls away.

“Edward, I am so sorry,” he begins, dropping his face into his palms, burdened by shame, “I don't- I don't know what came over me. I should've never-”

But then, very suddenly, Ed is upon him, draped over his back and clamping his mouth over the juncture of Roy's neck and shoulder.

Roy startles, cries out, because he hadn't expected it to hurt so much, hadn't expected-

“There,” Ed says, sounding quite pleased with himself, running his tongue over the slightly bleeding spot, “Now it's mutual.”

Roy has to pull free from his grasp to properly turn around, but when he does he finally gets a good look at Edward.

His gaze is clear, unaffected by whatever hormones must still be coursing through his system, and a small smile is playing around his lips.

Roy stares.

“You... you?” he stutters, his brain barely even catching up with what has just happened.

Ed rolls his eyes. “For months now,” he says, “Seriously, how slow can you get?”

But when Roy just keeps staring at him in disbelief, a flicker of doubt darkens his face and he ducks his head, “Unless you didn't want me to...?”

There's an edge of panic creeping into his voice at the end, like he were the one who had acted hastily and without permission, like he had forced this on Roy.

“A-Are there ways to reverse it?” he stammers out, “I'll- I'll figure something out, I promise. I just thought- I though you-”

He's working himself up into another anxiety attack and that finally forces Roy into action.

“Shh, Edward,” he whispers, touching a soothing hand to the boy's forehead, brushing the hair from his face, “It's alright.”

Ed's amber eyes fix themselves on Roy, his pupils like pinpricks, his lips bloodless. He looks like he wants to believe Roy but cannot quite bring himself to do so. And how could he, after this confusing hot-and-cold game they had unwittingly playing with each other, neither knowing whether they were wanted and convincing themselves of the contrary. It had been a means of self-preservation but instead they had only hurt each other.

“I tried to tell myself... that it was selfish of me,” Roy discloses, “To presume that you would want me.”

“I,” Ed closes his mouth, opens it again, “Why wouldn't I want you?”

“I'm much older than you,” Roy reminds him gently, “A soldier. A murderer, essentially. You... have options.”

But Ed shakes his head.

“I know what I am doing,” he insists, “I thought about this.”

“Genius still leaves a margin for error,” Roy points out what they both know too well.

Ed's nose scrunches up.

“This is not alchemy,” he hisses, “This is not science. It's-”

And he catches himself, bites his tongue just short of the admission.

“You barely even know me,” Roy says and he doesn't understand why he is so desperately trying for self-destruction.

Ed glares, “Most people become mates with less than that.”

“Neither of us has ever been 'most people'.”

“Look, if you don't want me, just fucking say so,” Ed hisses and slaps his hand away, scooting back and only managing to tangle himself up in the sheets even more, “Would've saved me a fuckload of embarrassment, you shit, so don't sugarcoat-”

He chokes on his words, his throat closing up, and then he is struggling against the sheets, fighting to free himself in lieu of having to look at Roy.

And this must have been the reason why he broke off their arrangement, why he thought it necessary to try and tackle his heat on his own again. Edward Elric could not afford to be dead weight, could not allow himself to depend on someone who didn't need him in return.

He had claimed it wasn't alchemy, yet it was still obvious that he still applied the fundamentals of equivalent exchange to their relationship, believing it would only work if each got something similar out of it.

As though whatever they had was in any way quantifiable.

So Roy reaches out and pulls him against his chest in a tight embrace, stopping his feeble attempts at escape.

“I want you,” he concedes roughly, the confession strangely liberating, “I... want you.”

He had lain awake in bed, counting all the reasons why his daydream was a bad idea, except that his day dream had an agenda of his own and would not just be placated.

“So,” he says, “I would be very honored... if you would have me.”

Because at the end of the day, an omegas decision always superseded that of an alpha.

“I...,” Ed seems rather whiplashed by the sudden change in perspective, “That's what I've been saying, you bastard.”

Roy chuckles, “I just wanted to make sure. There is still a lot we need to consider. There is the brass and how we will break the news to people. Your brother might already know but not everyone will be so understanding. Furthermore-”

“Um,” Ed swallows nervously, “Can we... can we do this later?” And his hips helplessly wriggle against Roy's thigh, his re-awakened arousal at their proximity obvious.

Roy should insist that, no, they really ought to talk about it now, but there'd really be no point to it considering that Ed would be barely listening. And already Roy cannot concentrate anymore either, too focused on how his omega wants to be claimed once more.

His omega. His omega. Finally, the fantasy he had been tiptoeing around hits him full-force in the face.

He and Edward were mated now. In a convoluted and entirely unplanned way they had pledged themselves to each other. They weren't just heat partners anymore. They were an entity.

So Roy grabs Edward underneath the thighs and topples him over, pressing him down onto the mattress, tenderly fitting his teeth exactly over they had been before. The bitter taste of disinfectant is overpowering now but Edward's pulse is underneath his tongue, fast and hot and alive.

They can always talk tomorrow.

 

After their hasty departure from headquarters the day before, Alphonse had apparently returned to apologize for Roy's absence without going into detail, and for a short blissful while Roy fools himself into believing that no one will ask any cutting questions.

So he tugs at his collar to make sure it covers all evidence and acts like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

His peace, of course, is short-lived.

He and Edward had left the hotel at early dawn to get themselves some fresh clothes that did not stink of heat and sex, agreeing to meet later on to finally have a proper talk. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that Fullmetal deliberately managed to misinterpret that agreement.

Edward _swaggers_ into headquarters, dressed in nothing but his leather pants and a black tank top. One might think he had forgone his red coat because of the sweltering weather, but the way he keeps angling his head suggests otherwise.

On the golden skin of his neck, there for everyone to see, sits a fresh bite mark that just so happens to correspond with the set of Roy Mustang's teeth.

So much for even attempting to keep quiet about this.

Roy is standing in the outer-office when Ed comes in and so he has the dubious pleasure of witnessing his team's reactions firsthand.

Fuery's eyes simply widen behind his glasses, Breda gives a disbelieving bark of laughter, Falman fumbles a stack of papers so badly he eventually just drops it, and Havoc falls straight out of his chair. Hawkeye turns around and gives Roy a stern look.

“Is this... is this still just for show?” Havoc asks weakly after he has crawled out from under his desk.

“No,” Ed flips his hair back, “Problem?”

“Brother,” Alphonse sighs in exasperation. Freshly mated omegas tended to brag and, considering that Edward was a bit of a show-off anyway, there was no doubt that Al had already been subjected to a lot of preening.

“I called it,” Breda says with a grin, “Totally.”

“No, you didn't,” Fuery pipes up, “You said no one would ever be alpha enough for someone like Ed.”

A moment of realization and then they all turn towards Roy, new-found admiration in their eyes.

And this is Roy's time to gloat because he is well aware of what a catch Edward is. Not that he had so much caught Ed as had him thrust into his arms against his expectations.

In that moment there is a knock on the door and then a woman in uniform is already entering, immediately zeroing in on Roy.

“Colonel Mustang, sir,” the Sergeant addresses him with a sharp salute, but her gaze flickers from him to Edward for just a fracture of a second, “Major General Abbot requests your presence in her office. Major Elric is to accompany you.”

Roy bites the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing out loud, the buoyant atmosphere from before sucked right out of the room as all of his previous fears seem to manifest themselves.

He glances over at Edward who is already watching him with wide eyes, trying to gauge his reaction.

Roy gives an almost imperceptible nod, beckoning for Ed to join him as he follows the sergeant out of the office, leaving his team and Alphonse in uneasy silence. They all knew what this new turn of events might entail.

Because, now that they are a mated pair, it was quite likely that Roy would be no longer allowed to be Edward's commanding officer, due to a conflict of interest. And that, in turn, might mean that Ed would really be expected to become a dog of the military, following someone else's orders and doing their dirty work. Most likely, Alphonse would no longer be able to accompany him on missions, the risk of discovery too great. And their search for a cure might be postponed indefinitely.

Roy had many enemies within the rank and he shivers at the thought of someone abusing the power they might hold over his mate.

Major General Abbot was not a cruel woman, though. Tough and strict maybe, but not known for unnecessarily picking on her subordinates. If Roy presented sound reasoning she would surely side with him. And if that still wasn't enough then he would grovel and beg till she relented.

In this matter, Roy's pride meant nothing.

The sergeant leads them to Abbot's office, no chance for them to devise a battle plan, no time for anything more than a quick look exchanged between him and Ed as they step over the threshold and the sergeant closes the door behind them with a firm click.

Just like last time, Abbot sits behind her desk, dark and forbidding. Roy should feel more confident than before, considering that now he has Edward by his side, but instead it only makes him feel more uneasy, makes him feel like he has to protect so much more than just his own reputation.

“Mustang,” Abbot says curtly, no rank, no greeting, just that clipped voice of hers, “You know why you are here.”

“I have a suspicion, ma'am,” Roy replies with some chagrin. Her face doesn't change.

“I asked you whether you intended to mate with Major Elric and you told me no,” she points out.

“Correct, ma'am,” Roy nods, “That is because at that time I had no insight on the fact that Fullmetal would be inclined towards a bond. Things only changed recently.”

Abbot gives him a dead-pan stare, doubtlessly translating that to mean that in the heat of the moment they just hadn't be able to control themselves.

“I that case I would have expected some more discretion from you, Mustang,” she chides, “This was already an unprecedented case, even before you decided to add fuel to the flames. What makes you think it advisable to let your omega strut around headquarters in such a manner?”

“My apologies, ma'am,” Roy says deferentially, “I had warned Fullmetal of being too open-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Ed cuts in, obviously fed up with being talked about like he weren't even present, “You fucking didn't.”

“Edward,” Roy tries, but is overridden once more.

“No, screw this,” Ed hisses, “I'm not 'your omega' when we're here. You don't get to tell me what to do.”

“But I am your C.O. and-”

“As you were before. So this changes nothing.”

“You are still expected to follow my-”

“Oh, up yours, Mustang,” Ed snarls and flips him the finger, making Roy bristle.

“Would you like me to pencil you in for cleaning duties again, Fullmetal, because I'm sure-”

Behind her desk, Abbot clears her throat and that has them both snap back to attention at once. The look on her face is neutral but there is still an air of amusement about her.

“It seems to me, Colonel Mustang,” she says in slow deliberation, “That you need to discipline your omega.”

Roy pulls himself up straight.

“With all due respect, ma'am,” he says coldly, “How I treat my mate is none of your concern.” He sends a sideways glance at Ed, “Now, if you want me to reprimand my subordinate, however...”

Ed bares his teeth at him and Roy would in fact rebuke him. But in that moment Major General Abbot barks out a laugh.

Roy turns to stare at her.

“Very well, Mustang, Elric,” she nods, pulling a blank sheet of paper towards herself and scribbling something down, “I will make the necessary changes to your respective contracts. Someone will also have to write up a new sub-clause for the military's operation orders regarding mated pairs. I believe so far there are only specifications for alpha-beta and beta-beta combinations, but that's outside of my jurisdiction. I will talk to the Führer, though.”

“Ma'am?” Roy asks, but she just talks over him.

“He'll also want to issue an official press release, so be prepared for that. With the way omega activists have gained followers, it will be a good thing to get some positive coverage. People have been demanding the system to change for decades.”

Finally, Roy catches on.

She had wanted this. She had provoked them to see whether Ed and Roy were able to separate their work from their private life, whether they could still operate objectively. This had been nothing more than a test and, it seemed, that he and Edward had passed it with flying colors.

“Wait, what?” Ed says, blinking, and Roy surreptitiously steps on his toes to keep him from asking an impertinent questions.

“I'll get back to you later,” Abbot says, not looking up from her papers, “Dismissed, Mustang. Elric.”

Roy salutes, the movement just calculated enough to nudge Edward into doing the same and then they leave Abbot's office together.

Roy closes the door behind them and they walk down the corridor in silence, their steps echoing off the walls. Slowly, Roy comes to a stop.

“What now?” he asks abruptly, making Ed look up to him in askance.

“What now what?”

Roy laughs, a little helpless. “Typically, a mated pair will move in with each other,” he says, “If only for posterity's sake.”

Ed frowns down at the floor.

“I have promises to keep,” he says, very quietly.

“Many would consider _this_ a promise,” Roy says and strokes gentle fingers over the mark on Ed's neck. The corners of Ed's mouth pull down, but he doesn't pull away.

“You know what I mean,” he objects, though he does sound reluctant, “I've got Al to consider.”

“I know,” Roy smiles, “I'm just teasing you.”

Ed rolls his eyes, “What else is new?”

“I mean it, though,” Roy points out, more sober now, “About where we will go from here on.”

Ed shrugs, “Same as before, I guess? We do our jobs and occasionally we fuck.”

Roy gives a small sigh, fond exasperation at the simplicity of youth.

“There is so much more than that,” he points out, “And I, for one, would like to... court you, so to say.”

Ed stares. “Duh?” he says, pointing to the bite mark.

“I know,” Roy huffs, “We got it backwards. But... if you would allow me... I would very much like to get to know you as something other than your commander or your heat partner.”

Once more, a delightful blush blazes across Edward's cheeks.

“Maybe, um, we could... grab some food whenever I'm in town?” he offers, like even that were too much to ask for.

“That sounds wonderful,” Roy agrees, “And maybe, whenever you are not in town, you write me. Or give me a call.”

At that, Edward looks suspicious, “Are you just trying to keep tabs on me?”

“That, too,” Roy admits, “I worry for you. And you do have a penchant for dropping off the radar. I need to know you are safe.”

For a moment Ed just looks at him with wide eyes, not saying anything. Then he stands up on his tiptoes and grabs Roy by the collar to pull him down, kissing him soundly. Roy gasps a little in surprise but then just surrenders himself into the delightful sensation, arms sneaking to wrap around Edward's hips.

Ed pulls back, just a fraction, uncaring of the fact that they are standing in the middle of a corridor at headquarters where anyone could see them.

“I've always wanted to do that properly,” he admits bashfully and then ruins it by licking his lips, making Roy want to kiss him again and again.

Because now they no longer need to shroud themselves in the excuse that any of this is just because of Ed's heat or Roy's nature. Now they can finally admit that maybe there had been something more all along.

“So,” Roy says and smiles, “Dinner at my place?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, erm, anyone interested in a Xerxian AU featuring slave!Ed? 
> 
> Also, you may always feel free to shoot me some head canons or ideas, there's no telling what might inspire me. And even if you just want to all-caps yellat me about how much you love RoyEd, I'm readily available on tumblr. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on [tumblr!](https://dawnstruck.tumblr.com/)


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